Fear
by DarkDreamer56
Summary: NS Nick decides that Sara needs to talk. Contains spoilers for Nesting Dolls.
1. Default Chapter

Title: Fear  
Author: DarkDreamer56  
Archive: If you want it, ask please!  
Rating: PG-13, for language  
Pairing: N/S  
Disclaimer: If I owned them, this swing shift nonsense would be long over…  
Spoilers: Season 5 general spoilers

A/N: I know that the whole "Sara was abused" stories have been done many, many times. Still, I think that there is some truth to them, and with the upcoming ep on Thursday, I had to get this off my chest. Plus, it probably doesn't help that I tend to be an angst whore, who loves to see her favorite television characters floating about in the sea of emotional wreckage. I promise the next one will be extra fluffy! (I'm thinking about extending Child's Play, so the next chapter to that should be up in a few days). As always, please let me know what you think by clicking that lovely review button at the bottom of the page. This will probably have one more part. Enjoy!

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"Listen bitch, just because some guy messed you up, doesn't mean I hurt Adriana."

Nick saw her determination falter, and he knew. He didn't know who, or when, but it had happened. It was only a split second, but the fear that flashed in her eyes during that one second told him more than she ever had. She was afraid, a stranger calling her on something no one else dare ask about, terrified that he could read her so easily.

Still, she was a pro at appearing in control, and she slid back into it as easily as she had slipped out. Steely gaze, mouth set with a wry smirk, she gave no other outward indication that she had been shaken.

"Well, Mr. Harris, here's the problem. You say one thing, but the evidence is telling us something else. And no offense, but I'm going to have to go with the evidence on this one. DNA doesn't lie. You're going away for a long time."

With that, Nick watched her push away from the table and exit the interrogation room, door slamming loudly behind her. Nick glanced across the table at Mr. Harris, who appeared to be unfazed by her declaration. He had to fight the urge begging him to wipe the smile from Matthew Harris's face, choosing instead to speak carefully before following her out.

"First of all, Mr. Harris, you need to learn how to speak properly to a lady. Second of all, she's right. We've got you, we don't need a confession. Go ahead and cling to that story, because all it's going to get you is life in prison."

He found her leaning against a wall near the water fountain, eyes closed and arms crossed over her chest. Nick settled in next to her, mimicking her stance while facing her.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Talk about what?" Sara asked, not even bothering to open her eyes.

Nick sighed and ran a hand over his buzz cut. He and Sara had done this dance many times before. For years, they'd all had their suspicions, but they always kept their vocalized concerns to things like her trouble remembering to eat, sleep, or have a life outside of the lab. Things she might actually listen to too. No one yet had dared to tackle what was likely the cause of all these other problems.

"What Harris said to you…"

"What about it?" she interrupted tersely. This time her eyes opened and Nick saw the fear of being discovered once again flash in her eyes. "It was nothing."

Nick took a deep breath before responding. Sara was quickly going into defensive mode, which meant that he would probably only get this one chance before she stalked away, or shut him out completely.

"No Sara, it was something. A lot, actually. I'm sorry that you had to hear from a suspect what everyone has been afraid to ask you about for years. And I'm sorry that you feel you can't talk to any of us about it. But I wish you would talk to someone."

Her eyes widened in surprise, and Nick could tell she was grappling for an answer. She finally settled on flat out denial. "You're wrong, Nick. I'm fine, nothing's wrong."

"Do you really expect me to believe that? I saw your face Sara, and I've known you for almost five years. Don't feed me the bullshit party line."

She was getting angry now, the spark in her eyes was a fury usually reserved for only the most despicable suspects they came into contact with. But she was still talking to him. "Look Nick, you have no idea what you're talking about. I suggest you drop it, now." She tried to push past Nick, but he reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her back into the argument, and garnering a few stares from passersby.

"I know exactly what I'm talking about. For years, whenever someone gets too close to the truth, you push them away, or you outright deflect the argument. And we've let you. Never wanted to push you too far. But really Sara, that's over. I'm not gonna let you do this anymore. You've got to talk to somebody, why can't it be someone that already cares about you?"

"Can you not do this here?" she hissed, trying to pull her wrist from his grip.

"Where do you suggest we do this then?" he shot back, albeit in a slightly lower voice. "See, you expect to storm off now, and leave me here, pissed. You think that'll stop me from bringing it up again later. And I'm sorry that it's happened in the past, but not this time. Go clock out, this conversation is far from over."

"You couldn't drag me out of here if you wanted to." Her eyes dared him to try.

"I won't have to. Listen, either you come with me, and we talk about this, civilly, or I'll go to Ecklie." Nick knew that was a low blow, but he didn't know what else would work. Technically Nick should go to Grissom first, but Grissom liked to believe that nothing was wrong, and even if he bothered talking to Sara, it wouldn't do any good.

"And tell him what?" she smirked. "I didn't do anything wrong in there. I'm fine Nick."

"I'll tell him the truth. That I'm worried about you, that you're a ticking time bomb waiting to go off, and that you refuse to let anyone help you."

"You wouldn't dare." The defiant glare in her eyes would cause most men to back off, but Nick wasn't most men.

He returned her glare with equal defiance, refusing to give her an inch. An inch meant that she had won, and any more victories might just kill her. "I think you know me better than that. Now, you can meet me at my car in ten minutes, or I'll be waiting outside Ecklie's office when he comes in."

Sara gave him one last glare before wrenching her arm away and storming off. Nick watched her leave, hoping that he'd done the right thing.

Eight and a half minutes later, Nick was leaning up against his Denali, watching the doors to the lab. He had clocked out and avoided talking to anyone, even though rumors of "Sidle and Stokes getting into it at PD" were already making their way into the lab. Warrick gave him a questioning look, but said nothing when Nick blew by and out to the parking lot.

Now he was waiting for Sara, and he had no idea what to do next. Talking to her was not going to be easy, if they even got past the argument stage. And that was even assuming that she showed up.

At nine minutes and forty-five seconds, Nick sighed and checked his watch. He could probably get a few hours of sleep and still be back in time to catch Ecklie, something he didn't really want to do. Still, Sara had left him no choice; it was Ecklie, or let her continue down the spiral of self destruction. With one last sigh, he turned to climb into his Denali.

"So you give me that damned ultimatum, and then you decide to leave without me?" Sara tried to hide the hurt in her voice as she walked towards his vehicle. Nick turned around, surprised at her voice.

"I didn't think you were coming," he admitted. Some of her anger seemed to have disappeared since she'd stormed off, but Nick could still see that she was upset.

"I wasn't sure I was either," she replied, glancing over at her own Denali before opening the passenger door to Nick's. "This doesn't mean I'll talk," she added hastily as they buckled up, "I'll come with you, but I won't make any promises."

Nick nodded; he hadn't expected her to give into him that easily. They drove in silence; Sara staring out at passing scenery as Nick tried to figure out what to do. He finally figured the best thing to do would be to take her back to his place. He'd make breakfast, and try to broach the subject again. That way, she could scream all she wanted, and she couldn't kick him out.

When he pulled into his driveway, Sara didn't make any move to leave the car. Nick killed the engine before rubbing his head again and turned to face her.

"Listen, Sara. I didn't do this just to be a bastard. It's not like I woke up this morning, thinking, 'Hmm, what can I do to piss Sara off today?' I care about you a lot, and I can't watch you go on like this anymore. Please, just consider that, before you make up your mind about anything?"

Sara's eyes met his for a moment, and Nick saw that she hadn't made up her mind yet. He took that as a good sign, and reached over to squeeze her hand gently. As he descended the vehicle, he knew that even though they had both calmed down, he was still in for one hell of a night.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: See previous chapter  
Spoilers: Nesting Dolls

A/N: Somewhere my muse took an extremely dark turn, apparently during the formation of this chapter. Very angst-filled, but I hope I that I stayed true to character and didn't stray too far into heavy-handedness. I tried to fill in the blanks from what Sara gave us in Nesting Dolls. Since Nesting Dolls has aired by now, I guess this will now be AU, in the sense that Sara hasn't talked to anyone about anything for the purposes of this story. Enjoy!

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Nick had polished off two stacks of pancakes by the time Sara finally stopped pushing the pieces around her plate and stabbed one with her fork.

"I promise I didn't poison them," he ribbed, trying to break the tension that hung over his kitchen table.

Sara gave him a small smile through tired eyes, and popped a tiny piece in her mouth. "I guess I just haven't been all that hungry lately."

"It shows," Nick told her, noting her thin appearance. She must have dropped at least fifteen pounds in the past few months. Her clothes hung off her small frame, and the dark circles under her eyes highlighted the gaunt features of her face. Nick was certain that most days she ended up skipping actual meals in favor of coffee for sustenance.

"Nick, please…" she sighed as she pushed the plate away.

"Hey, if you're not going to take care of yourself, then I'm going to make sure that someone does," he replied matter-of-factly, pushing the plate back towards her. She gave him a glare, but took another bite. After she had choked down enough to satisfy Nick, he gathered up the plates, wanting to wash them while he figured out exactly how to proceed.

While he was turned towards the sink, he heard her get up from the table. "Well, thanks for the pancakes Nick. We'll have to do it again sometime, but I think I'll just call a cab…"

Nick rolled his eyes as he threw the dishes into the sink. So much for that plan. Of course she was going to make it difficult for him. Instead, he turned around, placing his hands on her shoulders, gently directing her to his living room. She sat stiffly in one corner of his couch, arms crossed, as Nick wearily sank into the opposite end, facing her.

He decided to cut to the chase. "Sara, talk to me, please. Tell me what's going on."

"Nothing is going on Nick. I don't know why you're insisting on this," she huffed, but her eyes told Nick she was lying.

He decided to switch tactics, realizing that Sara wasn't going to give up denial while she felt he was attacking. Getting Sara to open up required a little more finesse, and not so much confrontation. "You know, I think there is something masochistic about this profession," he mused, sliding closer to her on the couch, "I mean, we see horrible things everyday, but we keep coming in the next night. Sure, we're all science geeks at heart, but I don't think that's what keeps most of there."

Sara regarded him warily, unsure of his intentions with this line of thinking. "We want to help people" she replied simply.

"That's a bullshit answer," he shot back with a small smile, once again sliding closer. "If that's all it was about, we'd have become doctors, or teachers. No, there's something about this job that attracts a different sort."

Nick could tell Sara was intrigued by what he was trying to say, and her body relaxed next to him. Her arms uncrossed and fell into her lap as she let their eyes meet. "What do you think is different?" she asked, her voice devoid of the anger he'd been receiving most of the night.

"I think we're looking for more than just a job, or a career. We're trying to fix something inside of ourselves. By solving these cases and putting away the people responsible, we can give closure. Maybe that's something we need ourselves. But since we don't have it, or can't get it, we have to satisfy ourselves by getting it for others."

Sara stiffened next to him and drew in a sharp breath. Nick knew he was getting closer to the heart of what was plaguing her, but exactly what that was, he still wasn't sure. "So you think that every criminalist has some sort of trauma in their past that drove them to this grisly work?" Nick noticed the way her eyes never quite met his during her question.

"Not everyone, no. But I think most of the people who are consistently driven to solve cases, regardless of their own health or safety, yeah, I think, are trying to resolve something inside of themselves. But the problem is, it's not gonna work. Sure, that drive makes for a great criminalist, but it's at the expense of everything else."

Nick reached out for her hand, surprised when she didn't resist. Her shoulders began to sag as she squared her chin, trying to keep herself from falling apart. Still, her hand was clamped down on his so tightly that Nick wouldn't have been surprised to find a broken finger or two.

Her voice was soft, but desperately holding onto any semblance of control. "There are some cases that just take over, you know? You can't eat; you can't sleep until you've put it all together. Even though you know better, you make a personal connection with the victim."

Nick watched her falter for just a second, and he wanted to wrap an arm around her in comfort, yet he knew that he couldn't until she had gotten all of this off her chest. "We've all had cases that affect us more than others."

"For some of these women, I have to bring them justice. They didn't deserve to be raped; they didn't deserve to be beaten, or stabbed, or suffocated. And if the only thing I can do to make it right is put away the man that did that to them, then it's what I have to do."

Sara drew her knees up to her chest and turned her face away from Nick as a few tears escaped from her eyes. Nick rubbed the back of her hand gently with his thumb, despite the death grip that Sara still held on his own.

"Because you need closure for what happened to you?" he asked softly, trying his hardest to keep the question matter of fact. This was the closest anyone had ever come to getting her to open up in five years, and he couldn't chance saying something to make her shut down completely on him.

The tears began spilling down her cheeks without resistance as she nodded. His eyes pleaded with her to tell him, but she only shook her head as she choked on a sob.

"Nick, please don't…" she whispered a few minutes later.

"You can do this, Sara," Nick insisted, turning her chin so that she was looking him directly in the eye. Nick believed in her; she was so much stronger than she thought.

"Nick, I can't. I don't want to be that girl again, and if I talk about it…that's exactly what will happen. Everyone will look at me differently."

"Sar, darlin', I don't know what you're talking about. But I do know that what ever happened to you, you have nothing to be ashamed of. And you telling me, or anyone else, it's not going to make any of us think less of you. It may make us understand you a little bit more, and it might make you feel better, but I promise that we'll all still care about you just as much, which is a lot more than you realize."

Sara searched his eyes through her tears, and Nick hoped that she could see the sincerity and concern displayed behind his attempt to hold back his own tears. She must have found what she was looking for, because she loosened her grip on his hand, and began to speak, though her voice sometimes cracked.

"Did you know I was in foster care?" Nick tried to hide his surprise as he shook his head. "Of course not, I've never really talked about it before. Well, I was, from the time I was twelve, until I graduated when I was sixteen."

Nick squeezed her hand, urging her to go on. "I was hiding under the bed in their room. He…he was drunk again, and he was coming up the stairs, and I knew I didn't have time to get to my room and lock the door, so I thought that if I hid under there, he wouldn't find me. He usually went to scream at Eric, my brother, first, so I had time to get out. Once he was done with her downstairs, she usually just drank herself to oblivion and passed out on the couch. She wasn't supposed to come upstairs after him…she wasn't supposed to have that knife…"

Sara voice broke off as she lost control, and she had to take several deep breaths before she could continue.

"He came into the bedroom…and she ran in, and they were still fighting. I saw…I saw her feet lunge forward, then the mattress bounced and he gasped. And then all I could hear was her screaming, and blood was dripping down the side of the bed and then she sunk to the floor and she was crying so hard…"

Tears were streaming down both of their faces and Sara's small frame was leaning on Nick for support. He felt like all the wind had been knocked out of him and he vaguely realized that he was the one now gripping Sara's hand as she continued.

"The police found me under the bed, but it took them forever to coax me out. One of them tried to shield my head when they took me out of the room, but all I could see was all the blood, and his eyes. They were so…so lifeless...just empty…" Nick put an arm around her, drawing her close when he saw the terror stricken look on her face. He knew she was seeing everything inside her head as she told him the story, and he wished to God that he could erase those awful images forever imprinted on her memory. Still, she kept it together as she struggled to finish.

"She was in the hallway, covered in his blood. She wouldn't even look at me when the Social Services lady walked me past her…I tried so hard to believe that she did it for us. I wanted to believe that she killed him because she couldn't stand seeing him hurting her children anymore. Sometimes I even had myself convinced that it was true. But it was just a story I made up in the dark." Her voice was so small, and as she let out a sigh, it nearly broke Nick's heart. He winced, and felt a surge of anger towards the woman he had never met, who hadn't been capable of loving her children enough to save them.

"She just wanted to survive. In her mind, she couldn't love us and survive at the same time. He hit all of us, he screamed all the time, he used to come into my room…and she knew. But when he was hurting us, he wasn't hurting her, and she couldn't risk changing that. We were never really her children, we were just people sharing a fucked up home life. And she couldn't take it anymore, so she killed him."

"Oh God, Sar, I'm so sorry," he murmured into her hair as she allowed him to pull her tightly against his side. She began to sob, clinging to him with all she had left. That was one heavy secret to carry alone for so long; it was no wonder she had struggled under the weight of it.

Suddenly years of baffling reactions and habits made sense to Nick. He knew there was nothing he could say to change what had happened, so he held her in silence, running his fingers up and down her shoulder.

Her tears soak through the fabric of his shirt, as a few of his own mixed with hers. Once Sara's tears stopped falling and began to dry against his skin, she curled herself up beside him, allowing him to comfort her the only way he knew how.

"Thank you," he whispered awhile after silence had descended over them, "for trusting me enough to share that."

"It was a few days before they could place me with a foster family, so I had to stay at the county facility. All the other kids knew me as 'that girl whose mother stabbed her father to death.' I never want to be that girl again Nick. I can't…"

Nick squeezed her shoulder and brushed his lips against her temple. "Sara, when I think of you, I think of a lot of things. I think of how brave you are, how strong you are to have gone through all of that. Yeah, it's a part of you, but that is not your defining characteristic. And I bet that if you told anyone else on the team, they'd feel the same way."

Sara looked up at him like a deer caught in headlights. "Nick, no…it was hard enough this time, I don't think I can…"

"Yes you can. Sure, not right now, but someday, you'll be able to."

She regarded him for a moment as her eyes began to water again. She looked as if she was about to speak, but then changed her mind and began to wipe her eyes. Despite her puffy eyes and tearstained face, it seemed as if twenty years of weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

"How are you feelin?" he asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Like I've been hit by a truck," she answered truthfully with a wry smile. "My head is killing me."

"Well, you could probably use some sleep, I bet you haven't gotten much lately, huh? Why don't you go lay down in my room, and I'll bring you some aspirin. You can crash here tonight."

"Thank you," she answered in a soft voice. Nick sensed some hesitation before she quietly asked, "Would you sit with me for a little while."

His reply was in the form of a small grin. "You can grab a tee-shirt from my laundry basket, and I'll get that aspirin." He dropped a kiss on her forehead before untangling himself and heading into the kitchen.

Listening to her shuffle down the hall towards his bedroom, Nick sighed in relief. He knew she had a long way to go before she would be okay, and that she would need a lot more help than Nick could provide on his own, but he was certain that she'd make it through. Tomorrow he would broach the subject of professional counseling, and perhaps even taking some voluntary time off of work, but for tonight he'd just watch her sleep.

Fin.

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